The Rain Outside Patters Again

❝ I'm a man of an overthinker,
but an overdoer have I been seldom
So when the pulsars spin no more,
the warmth of the fire turns infernal ❞

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I hereby declare the little unvoiced thoughts sizzling inside my head verbatim one may call as a form of literary work molded in the term of "poetry anthology"; the constitution of personal yet perhaps universal vulnerabilities that are, not surprisingly, still the very foundation of my midnight-overthinking routines I fetishize along with the cancer-inciting toxic cigarettes.

Please, do enjoy it. And read it aloud until you get sick of the first line.

("Updates will be much regular as I write poems every week)